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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116812">Enclosure Enfolding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/svecounia/pseuds/svecounia'>svecounia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>KÀ - Cirque du Soleil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:29:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/svecounia/pseuds/svecounia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A tendril of smoke lifts beyond the forest canopy, and beneath it, a prince and a jester cling to all they have. Shadowplay without the shadowplay.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Twin Brother/Court Jester</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Enclosure Enfolding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Omare nudged the stone ring encircling their campfire with the toe of his shoe.</p><p>"Fire's low," he mumbled.</p><p>"It will have to stay that way if we want to keep it burning overnight," Capo said, leaning over to settle the logs with a prod from a sturdy branch. The shift revealed their hot, glowing undersides, and sparks erupted in a series of snaps. Omare took no comfort in it. </p><p>"I'm cold."</p><p>"And it will get colder. I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Capo added in a gentler tone. "But you need to take what rest you can no matter the discomforts. We move at first light."</p><p>Omare snorted dully. "Like they won't have trackers after us every hour of the day or night." </p><p>He fiddled with the dirty, frayed strip of fabric that bound his hand. The wounds there were minor and had long since stopped bleeding, but he wasn't ready to look at them just yet. The thought of how he'd gotten them felt held back by the bandage, and to untie it now might unravel the horrible memory of scrabbling to pull out the arrowhead that had buried itself in his father's chest. He closed his fist.</p><p>"Let me see."</p><p>Capo had his hand extended to Omare, who instinctively held his own hand closer to his heart. Those memories hurt, too. The countless times they'd traded blows in the training ring, when Capo had knocked Omare flat on his back, too quick and agile for Omare to dodge for long before his feet were kicked out from beneath him. Capo would smile, pull Omare up, clap him on the back, and insist they go for another round. Often Omare could only pant and nod, face flushed with what he hoped only looked like effort. </p><p>He didn't want Capo's hand now. </p><p>"Your Majesty––"</p><p>"Quit calling me that," Omare snapped. "There's no kingdom. The palace burns. Jimaya's gone and our parents…." The words were thick enough to choke. He swiped furiously at his eyes but that only encouraged the oncoming tears: he turned away from the fire's glow to hide them. None of it was new to Capo: he'd seen Omare in nearly every emotional state imaginable. But that had been his duty then. That was when there had been an Empire instead of just an ashy, arrow-studded heap of rubble where Omare's entire life had once stood. </p><p>"Omare." </p><p>He looked up. Capo's hand was still outstretched. He placed his own in Capo's and his jester drew it closer: Omare felt it in his chest more than his hand, and he followed as though pulled by a string. He watched as Capo carefully unwound the bandage, then passed his fingers over Omare's palm. Indeed the bleeding had stopped, and the skin had even begun to knit itself back together, closing up the evidence of the siege and their loss. Sealing it inside him instead. </p><p>"I'll call you what you like, but you will always be Your Majesty to me," Capo said. He tested each finger's flexibility gently, one by one. "They can burn the whole Empire to the ground, but it doesn't change who you are."</p><p>Omare knew it was meant to soothe him but hollow disappointment was closer at hand. He watched Capo's hand move over his own. Larger fingers, darker skin, callused by combat and made graceful by dance. Omare imagined what it would look like if he laced them together. Maybe a mountain range, peak after sloping peak, or shingles on a roof, each laid over the other, fitted and protective. Whether Capo would stay still or draw away. Whether he'd grip back. </p><p>Omare pulled his hand back, unable to look at him. </p><p>"You should bed down," Capo said. He stoked the fire again, then got to his feet. "The ground is softer here, come." </p><p>"Are you––"</p><p>"Just to get more firewood to last us the night."</p><p>He stood aside so Omare could shuffle into his spot and curl onto his side before the fire. It was softer, and just a touch warmer, but maybe he was just imagining it. The fire's glow seemed to dim when Capo retreated to the woods. </p><p>Exhaustion's battle with anxiety ended in a stalemate. Omare's body felt leaden but his insides teemed with worry for his people, his sister, himself. A tremor shook him to his bones and he clamped every part of him down around it, only to startle badly when Capo laid another log on the fire a minute or an hour later. </p><p>Capo froze. "Did I wake you?" </p><p>Omare held back a sniffle. "No."</p><p>Capo brushed off his hands and heaved a sigh, nodding. He ran a hand through his dreadlocks as he stared into the fire. His dark eyes were perfect mirrors for the firelight, shining and flickering, but even after so many years of Capo's company Omare couldn't hazard a guess at what was on his mind. Everything, he supposed. The enormity of what had happened. The yawning, intangible mystery of whatever future stretched out in front of them. At last he glanced down at Omare and gestured. He looked so tired.</p><p>"Do you mind? Against the cold?"</p><p>Omare shook his head wordlessly. Capo stretched out behind him and draped a heavy arm over his shoulders, and a greater and more comforting heat than the fire could ever provide wrapped him up, steady and warm. His breath came soft at the back of Omare's neck.</p><p>He imagined he could feel Capo's heartbeat. Maybe it was just his own, hammering so hard against his ribs that it reverberated through his whole body. Omare nudged closer, and Capo gripped tighter. </p><p>"Goodnight, Your Majesty."</p><p>"'Night."</p>
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